Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister - Robert Browning
A Furious Monk’s Inner Rant of Jealousy and Hypocrisy
Gr-r-r—there go, my heart's abhorrence!
Water your damned flower-pots, do!
If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence,
God's blood, would not mine kill you!
What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming?
Oh, that rose has prior claims—
Needs its leaden vase filled brimming?
Hell dry you up with its flames!
At the meal we sit together:
Salve tibi! I must hear
Wise talk of the kind of weather,
Sort of season, time of year:
Not a plenteous cork crop: scarcely
Dare we hope oak-galls, I doubt:
What's the Latin name for "parsley"?
What's the Greek name for Swine's Snout?
Whew! We'll have our platter burnished,
Laid with care on our own shelf!
With a fire-new spoon we're furnished,
And a goblet for oneself,
Rinsed like something sacrificial
Ere 'tis fit to touch our chaps—
Marked with L. for our initial!
(He-he! There his lily snaps!)
Saint, forsooth! While Brown Dolores
Squats outside the Convent bank
With Sanchicha, telling stories,
Steeping tresses in the tank,
Blue-black, lustrous, thick like horsehairs,
—Can't I see his dead eye glow,
Bright as 'twere a Barbary corsair's?
(That is, if he'd let it show!)
When he finishes refection,
Knife and fork he never lays
Cross-wise, to my recollection,
As do I, in Jesu's praise.
I the Trinity illustrate,
Drinking watered orange-pulp—
In three sips the Arian frustrate;
While he drains his at one gulp!
Oh, those melons? If he's able
We're to have a feast! so nice!
One goes to the Abbot's table,
All of us get each a slice.
How go on your flowers? None double?
Not one fruit-sort can you spy?
Strange!—And I, too, at such trouble
Keep them close-nipped on the sly!
There's a great text in Galatians,
Once you trip on it, entails
Twenty-nine distinct damnations,
One sure, if another fails:
If I trip him just a-dying,
Sure of heaven as sure can be,
Spin him round and send him flying
Off to hell, a Manichee?
Or, my scrofulous French novel
On gray paper with blunt type!
Simply glance at it, you grovel
Hand and foot in Belial's gripe:
If I double down its pages
At the woeful sixteenth print,
When he gathers his greengages,
Ope a sieve and slip it in't?
Or, there's Satan!—one might venture
Pledge one's soul to him, yet leave
Such a flaw in the indenture
As he'd miss till, past retrieve,
Blasted lay that rose-acacia
We're so proud of! Hy, Zy, Hine ...
'St, there's Vespers! Plena gratia
Ave, Virgo! Gr-r-r—you swine!
Robert Browning’s “Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister” is a dramatic monologue delivered by an unnamed speaker—a monk—who seethes with resentment toward Brother Lawrence, another monk in the same cloister. The poem unfolds as the speaker rails internally at every small habit and presumed failing of Brother Lawrence, revealing far more about himself than about his target.
The hateful diatribe spans a variety of topics: from Brother Lawrence’s gardening to his dinner etiquette, and even to how he stacks his utensils. Petty as these critiques may be, they highlight the speaker’s escalating bitterness and hypocrisy. Although he is a monk, sworn to a life of piety, the narrator’s thoughts dwell on cursing, jealousy, and sinister fantasies of revenge. His goal appears to be tripping Brother Lawrence into spiritual peril—indeed, he relishes the idea of orchestrating the other monk’s damnation.
Browning exploits this internal rant to examine the complex dynamics of religious life, satirizing the notion that external ritual or superficial piety automatically equates to genuine holiness. By having the speaker privately rage against a fellow monk’s supposed imperfections, Browning underscores that self-righteous anger and envy are just as spiritually corrosive as any outward sin. The dramatic monologue form immerses the reader in this twisted mindset, revealing how performance can hide deep-rooted malice.
Ultimately, “Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister” is a cautionary portrait of how easily resentment can eclipse sincere spiritual practice. The speaker’s obsessive hatred ironically serves only to highlight his own moral shortcomings. Instead of exemplifying Christian compassion, he dwells on petty faults and schemes. Browning thus invites us to reflect on the dangers of hypocrisy—how a person outwardly bound to religious ideals can inwardly succumb to bitterness, cruelty, and a thirst for vengeance. The contrast between the speaker’s vow of holiness and the venom in his heart underscores the clash between appearance and inner truth.
While the poem is often quite humorous in its exaggeration of petty loathing, it also carries a serious moral: a person fueled by envy and wrath can find themselves undermining the very ideals they claim to uphold. Brother Lawrence may or may not be as perfect as the speaker imagines; however, it is ultimately the speaker's vicious obsession that tarnishes his own spirit.
Key points
• Browning’s monologue reveals hypocrisy lurking behind supposed religious devotion.
• The speaker’s obsessive hatred of Brother Lawrence highlights how envy can corrode genuine piety.
• Internal rage and petty criticisms undermine the monk’s profession of spiritual principles.
• The poem humorously but sharply critiques self-righteous indignation and moral posturing.